Page 59 of Flint's Battle

Emery pushed down the pain and anger burning beneath her skin, glancing over at the blond asshole sitting beside her. His gun in his right hand. Not quite trained on her, but available. A deterrent, she supposed, to dissuade her from attempting some sort of coup. Which she would, pistol or not. She just needed the right circumstances.

She looked away. “You wouldn’t like anything I have to say.”

“Are we talking about Jack or your new boyfriend? Because Jack should live.” The guy shrugged. “As long as someone came along. I could have killed him. Had his head in my crosshairs. But I wanted him to live so he can spend the rest of his life knowing he failed.”

The creep leaned closer. “Your brother’s a fucking hard ass. He needed a reality check.”

She scoffed. “He’s not the only one, then.”

“Really? And why do I need a reality check?”

“Not just you. Bates, too, if either of you think you’re getting out of this alive.”

Bates glanced at her in the rearview mirror. Eyes wide. Mouth pursed. Some of the color drained from his face as he looked over at blondie.

Morgan chuckled. “I’m fairly certain I’m the one holding the gun.”

“For now.”

“You can barely sit straight and your shoulder’s bleeding, again. Maybe if you were at full strength, you’d be a threat. But like this…”

Emery waited for him to finish snickering before turning to face him. “I never said I’d be the one to take you down. I will, if given the chance. But I’m the least of your worries.” She made eye contact with Bates in the mirror. “Do you have any idea the level of enemy you’ve made?”

Bates grunted. “Morgan. What is she talking about?”

“I assume she means her new boyfriend.” The asshole inched closer. “Do you really think I’m afraid of him just because he’s some kind of grunt soldier? Please. I’ve got training, too.”

Emery smiled. “Is that what you think? That he’s regular Army?”

“Let me guess. He’s a sniper or something.”

“He’s a Navy SEAL, asshole.”

“Navy SEAL?” Bates’ voice wheezed through the vehicle, a full octave higher than before. “Aren’t those the guys who killed bin Laden?”

“Relax, Bates. She’s lying.”

“I don’t know. The way those guys moved. They weren’t ordinary military.”

“Who cares what he is. She’s just trying to rile you. Don’t make it easy for her.” He stared at Emery. “I’ll call your bluff, McClane. Because I doubt he’ll catch up.”

“That’s the point. It doesn’t matter how far you run. Where you go. He’ll come after you. Make it his sole mission to hunt youdown.” She leaned closer. “You’re already dead. The bullet just hasn’t found you, yet.”

Morgan’s smile faltered.

Emery leaned against the seat. “Which is more than I can say for Bates. He still thinks he’s part of your long-term plan. He doesn’t know you’re going to kill him once we reach whatever harbor you’re heading for, does he?”

Bates coughed. “Morgan?”

Morgan huffed. “I already told you that she’s lying.”

“Am I? Then why did you have a clean-up crew at the hospital? Those were Henry Russo’s men. If you’re willing to kill them — to risk payback from one of the oldest and most powerful cartels in Florida — then why would you keep an officer around who’s no longer useful to you?” She made eye contact with Bates. “You signed your own death warrant the moment you blew your cover. And I have a feeling this boat won’t be big enough for all of us.”

Morgan chuckled. “You’re right about one thing. The boat won’t be big enough for you. You’re just our insurance policy until we get into international waters. Then…”

He leaned toward the front seat, eyeing Bates. “Which won’t happen if you keep driving like a soccer mom.”

Bates grunted. “Are you blind? The fog’s thicker than shit, and the wipers can’t keep up with all this rain.”

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